Editing as an Art Form
You do not have to be good./ You do not have to walk on your knees/ for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting./ You only have to let the soft animal of your body/ love what it loves.” Mary Oliver
I have always loved editing because I like to find what’s true in a work of fiction or in a poem.
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Argiope Argentata
I walked our white dog down the wide street past a pikake
blossom that must have been caught by an unseen strand
of an old web left by a silver garden spider
Argiope argentata
native to Los Angeles
not too poisonous
for humans.
Meanwhile a famous human was in the throes of another
terrible misfortune they caused
but instead of seeing it, they
eyed gluten with what the kids called
(for a minute)
bombastic
side
eye
in order to remain unscathed.
I walked our white dog down the wide street past a white
blossom that hovered over the hood of an old blue car
and I only turned around because if it was magic
or a portal to another world
if you just stopped to
watch the white
petals spinning
mid-air
then I was already too old, apparently, already missed it
because I was thinking of what to cook alongside
the chicken for dinner.
Potatoes
maybe.
Corn.
